


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [11]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Surrealism, Teenage Bright, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#the-weary-bluesThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Series: Domino 🁡 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Weary Blues](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685306) by Langston Hughes. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[The Weary Blues](https://library.villanova.edu/Find/Record/1556524/TOC) \- Langston Hughes  
>  **— Cover Song:**[Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yam5uK6e-bQ) \- The Cranberries
> 
> Brief parts of lines in italics attributed to the original work.

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/the-weary-blues.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
_Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly_.

“You could write about them, you know?” Jackie says, talking over the scrambled eggs and pancakes she’s preparing.

“Mmm,” Malcolm hums, paying attention, yet not really wanting to acknowledge the suggestion.

“I could show you. You could read all about my quest singing down the street and folks I pass breaking into song.”

“Not in New York.” He smiles.

“Maybe someday.” She gives him a broad smile back.

“My dreams, my nightmares — they’re darker.” He doesn’t suspect she’d get the same enjoyment if she reads his pages. If he ever pens the pages in the first place.

“I know this isn’t the same,” she prefaces and nibbles her lip. “Sometimes I have nightmares that Gil gets hurt on the job or attacked. I still write about them. Gets them… out of my head.”

“Has he gotten hurt before?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “It can happen.”

“You’d let me read that?” He’s curious but doesn’t want to pry into their lives.

She nods. “Yeah. Journal’s on my bedside table. Just be careful not to wake Gil.”

He watches her spoon the eggs onto a plate as if she’ll rescind her statement if given a moment, but she doesn’t. Walking down the hall, he avoids the squeaky boards, tiptoes into their bedroom, and retrieves the journal. He’s careful to latch the door quietly behind him and returns to his seat at the kitchen table.

“Go ahead,” Jackie says when he doesn’t open it.

“If I wrote about my nightmares, would you want to read them?” Malcolm asks, the thought worrying his stomach.

“Only if you want me to.” She pours more batter into the pan.

“Why are you letting me read yours?”

“Because I think it might help you know you’re not alone. Other people struggle, too, sometimes. It’s not the same — I’m not trying to tell you it’s the same. There are some tactics that can help. Just need to keep trying ’til you find the ones that work for you.”

He slowly opens the journal, the spine so used to being opened that it falls flat on the table. Thumbing through a few heavyweight pages, he lands on one filled with her scratched handwriting, the pen drying out in some places. “Does Gil read these?” Malcolm asks.

“No.”

“But you’re letting me read these?” He looks up at her in confusion.

“Yes, kid. Read, honey.”

_Rump-pa-pump-pa-pump the band plays walking down the street. The drums turn into bagpipes, the warbling cries somehow drowning out my own. He’s dead in the gutter, boots dancing all around him, rump-pa-pump-pa-pump. Rump-pa-pump the sky opens and sheets begin to fall. Hiding how he died, some tale they’ve spun above the law. Rump-pa-pump. Rump-pa-pump._

Malcolm’s throat clenches and his eyes water at the thought of losing his friend. If Jackie has nightmares about losing her husband like this… “Sometimes, I take the knife in my dreams,” he says quietly, looking at the journal on the table. “I don’t know if it’s real.”

He hears the click of the stove shutting off, and a plate slides into the oven. Another plate gets set in the middle of the table, and Jackie crouches beside him.

“Sometimes it’s a scalpel, sometimes a pocketknife, sometimes a razor… it varies.” Jackie’s hand rests on the back of his neck. “I take it and slice into something — I don’t know what.”

He can’t look up, can’t bear to see shame on her face. He wants to keep reading, perhaps find a happier story, but the pages in front of him are blurry. One tear escapes and hits the page, marring the ink. “I’m sorry,” he says, pushing the journal away so he doesn’t ruin it further. “I’m sorry.” He curls in on himself, resting his forehead against the table.

“It’s okay.” Jackie hugs him and rubs his back. He winds up sliding to the floor with her, and she leans against the table leg holding him while he cries. “Thank you for sharing with me. I’m sorry that’s happened in your nightmares.”

No one’s ever apologized to him for his nightmares before. She’s not even the one who needs to apologize — his father is. The thought makes him open up more, letting his tears go full force into her shoulder.

When his tears lessen to occasional shudders, he says, “I’m sorry you have nightmares about Gil dying like… like _that_.”

“Thank you,” she says, running her hand along his spine. “It’s only sometimes.”

“Can we go get a journal? I’ll—I’ll pay for it, I — “ He stutters, thinking the request might be too much.

“We’ve got it,” Jackie kisses the top of his head and turns her head to look across the room. “As soon as Gil’s ready.”

“What’s happening when Gil’s ready?” Gil asks, crouching beside them. He has a rolled up pancake in his hand, a bite taken out of it. His smile reaches his eyes, warm for the both of them. Malcolm doesn’t know how long he’s been standing in the kitchen. Jackie gives Gil a kiss, and Gil rubs the back of Malcolm’s neck.

“Can we go get a journal?” Malcolm asks again, looking at Gil. “I’ll pay.”

“We’ve got it, kid,” Gil says. “How about you wash up and eat a pancake, and we’ll go?”

“Jackie needs to eat breakfast,” Malcolm says. He’s already derailed enough of the morning — he doesn’t want her effort to go to waste.

“How about when we’re all done with breakfast, we’ll all go?” Gil counters.

“Okay,” Malcolm says and crawls out of Jackie’s lap. With a squeeze of her hand, he starts walking toward the bathroom.

“He okay?” Malcolm can hear Gil ask Jackie.

“Yeah,” Jackie says.

“You?”

“Yeah.”

Malcolm looks back to Gil hugging Jackie underneath the kitchen table, holding her just like she had held Malcolm. He hopes she never has to wonder whether her nightmares are real. His young mind can’t comprehend how he’d ever survive without both of them.

— ◌◯◌ —

“Flappy Bird?” JT questions, poking his head into Gil’s office to find Dani sitting in one of the chairs by the door.

“Something to fidget with when I’m stressed,” she explains, continuing to play. “Did you need a minute in here?”

“No, it’s alright — checking in.” He hopes he’s doing it in a way Gil does, friendly, but hopefully less fatherly. Not the boss, he’s new to trying to find the right balance.

“I want to go to the hospital, you know?”

Every bit of her body language exudes stress, body folded in on itself awkwardly scrunched in the chair, free hand picking at the seam on her pants. “Why don’t you go for a little bit?”

Dani clicks off her screen and looks up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Tell him we’re pulling for him.” They can’t both go right now, but if seeing him will help her refocus, he’s willing to hold down the fort and get an update through her.

“I don’t know he can hear, but sure.”

“Edrisa would probably say differently.”

“She send you as many texts as she’s sent me?”

“Yeah — almost muted notifications.” He gives a small smirk. The barrage of messages is annoying, but he knows she’s as worried as the rest of them. “Check in on the boss?”

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll be back soon. Thanks, JT.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
